Blitzed
by BrynnH87
Summary: Answer to a round of LFWS with the prompt of 'under the influence'. Tony has had a rough day, now everyone is having a rough night.


Author's Notes: Written for the NCIS "Last Fiction Writer Standing". Our prompt that round was "under the influence".

Blitzed

It's after midnight, but I'm still in my basement, working on my boat. We finished this last case late tonight anyway, but, with cases that go this monumentally wrong, it takes a while to wind down. I fully expect to sleep under the boat tonight, if I sleep at all.

The phone rings, so I bark an answer, "Gibbs." Who would be calling at this time of night? It better not be Morrow. The director promised my team some down time.

"Gibbs. It's Pacci."

"Chris. Do you _know_ what time it is?"

"Yeah, Gibbs. Unfortunately I do. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, and I have tomorrow off, so Thompson and I hit that sports bar on Fifth Street."

Thompson had been temporarily assigned to Pacci's team, and they had worked this case with us. Both men were good agents and the whole team had been a great help, but I had no idea why Pacci felt I needed this look into his personal life at 12:23 AM.

"Chris. The point."

"Of course Gibbs. The point. Tony's here."

"I left DiNozzo strung out on pain killers at his apartment hours ago."

"Well, the pain killers probably explain why he's acting so extreme. I've seen Tony drunk before, but I've never seen him get violent."

"DiNozzo? Violent?" I'm not sure _how_ Pacci could be so mistaken, but I'd seen Tony drunk before too. He's silly and immature – even more than usual – but I'd never seen him violent. Of course, I had never seen him drink while on pain killers. I decide that when I get to the bar, I'd show that imbecile some violence. But, first things first. I went back to the phone conversation. "If he's violent, why are you on the phone with _me_ and not dealing with_ him_."

"Um," Pacci hedges, "Thompson decided that it was much less dangerous to babysit the insane man throwing glassware than it was to call you and tell you that said insane man was a member of your team."

"Has he hurt anyone? Or himself?"

"Well, aside from drinking while on pain killers, which obviously isn't good for him,and possibly breaking his hand when he hit a wall, no. Mostly he's taking his anger out on glassware and defenseless furniture." Pacci sounds about half amused but now a serious tone is creeping into his voice. "This has been going on for about ten minutes now though showing no signs of slowing, and the owner is threatening to call the local cops. Tony just doesn't need that on his record. This case was hard on all of us, but probably the worst for Tony. Can you come get him Gibbs? I can't think of anyone else who has a _chance_ of reaching him right now."

"I'm on my way, Chris." I had started up the stairs the moment Chris said Tony was in trouble. By the time I hang up, I'm in my car heading toward the sports bar.

Pacci was right. This case was a mess from square one, but Tony got the brunt of it at the end. Five year old Stacey Collins – the daughter of a marine Colonel – had been kidnapped. The officer had specifically asked for us, but of course kidnapping is FBI territory, so we fought Fornell's team for jurisdiction – right up to the delivery of the ransom note. The perp had kept the child a full day before he sent a ransom note, and when he finally _did _send one, he sent the little girl's severed finger along with it. After 2 hours of not getting his money, another finger arrived. Apparently, we were on the clock on this one.

Director Morrow put Pacci's team at our disposal, and between us we finally figured out who this creep was and where he had the little girl… but not before the poor kid lost two more fingers. Mark Dawson had been cashiered out of the military, largely because of reports from the Colonel. Why he decided to take it out on the little girl, we still haven't figured out, but what was important at the time was that we knew where she was. We couldn't convince the FBI to let us handle the arrest, though, and two members of Fornell's team were newbies. We should have seen trouble coming.

Pacci's team provided a distraction out front; Kate and I came in the back and tried to stay hidden while Tony was tasked with finding the little girl. He found her, bloodied and battered, but alive; scooped her up and headed to the back door. The perp was busy with Pacci's team, and we were guarding Tony's exit. He was _right_ at the door, when the newbie FBI agents guarding the back door decided to make their move, totally against plan. They came in shouting identification. Dawson left the front of the house, and open fired. Kate and I returned fired immediately, but it wasn't soon enough. We ended up with one dead perp and two wounded FeeBies, and Tony? Tony ended up with a six inch gash in his arm, a bullet in his shoulder, and a dead child in his arms. I've never seen Tony cry on the job before, but he did today. Then he just shut down.

I tore a new one for Fornell, then shit rolled down hill and he reamed his new agents. Didn't do the girl much good, though. I left Tobias with the job of informing the dead girl's family that we were within minutes of returning her to them, alive, but that his team screwed the pooch; I took DiNozzo to the ER. He had the bullet dug out of his shoulder, had his arm stitched up, and was thoroughly loaded up on painkillers. Throughout it all, he didn't say a word, or make a sound. That definitely wasn't like Tony. I kept waiting for a movie reference, or some whining about how badly he was wounded. Nothing. The car ride to his house was absolutely silent. I tucked him in bed, made sure he had his next dose of painkiller and a bottle of water nearby, and left. Apparently, he didn't stay there.

I walk into the bar and can easily find DiNozzo by following the sound of breaking glass, not to mention angry words, laced with colorful language I hadn't even been sure Tony _knew_. Although, I'm pretty sure that some of the things he's suggesting are either physically impossible or illegal…or both.

"DiNozzo!"

He stops in mid throw. One beer bottle saved. I finally get a good look at the place. He has somehow gotten behind the bar, and has thrown a large number of the bottles. Broken glass and liquor litter the floor. While he's frozen, I walk over to him and reach for the bottle.

"Uh," he stutters, "Hi Boss."

"What'cha doin' DiNozzo?"

"Well… I think I might be a little drunk."

"Do ya think?"

He starts laughing as he gently places the bottle on the bar… then completely melts to the floor. Uncontrolled giggles turn into strangled sobs. I notice Pacci and Thompson take the bartender aside, no doubt explaining everything now that the poor man isn't trying to dodge flying glassware and save defenseless, and probably very expensive, liquor bottles.

"I _had_ her, Boss." I had known the breakdown was definitely coming eventually. I can't help but think it would have been healthier if it wasn't aided by booze and painkillers, but it's better than silence. "She was in my arms. I was at the back door." I settle down beside him on the floor as he continues. "Three more steps, Boss. She'd be home right now… snuggled up nice and warm in a big pink comforter, holding a teddy bear."

"DiNozzo…" I start.

"We were so _close. _I _had_ her. We were just about _out!"_

"I know, Tony." He finally looks at me. Boy, he's really blitzed. "Shit happens DiNozzo. It's not fair, and it's not right, and somehow it always seems to happen to the people who least deserve it." Of course, I'm talking about DiNozzo just as much as Stacey but he's _way _beyond understanding _that._ "I have no idea why the newbies did what they did, and you can bet they won't go much beyond 'newbie' anytime soon…at least not on Fornell's team."

"Doesn't help much, Boss." He looks pitiful.

"I know, DiNozzo." I stand up, give him a hand and get him to his feet. "Come on. We're going to swing by the ER, have that hand set, and you're spending the night with me. Then, in the morning, you're going to figure out how much of your expensive clothes and how many priceless movies you're going to have to sell to pay the nice bar owner for this very costly lake you've created here."

"Hm," he looked around like he was seeing the place for the first time. "I must really be blitzed, Boss."

"Yeah, I think you might be, Tony." I lead him toward the door. "Let's go home."

End


End file.
